


Damage

by sasha_b



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-22
Updated: 2011-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-20 15:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The truth is terrifying, but if Erik keeps it close, if he doesn’t admit it outloud or inside or let it escape from that lockbox Charles won’t know it, and <i>he</i> won’t have to give up the idea that perhaps the silence of the deep waters where he’d been going when Charles plucked him from the ocean is the place he wants to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damage

He grins as he watches Charles hold the gun; the metal barrel in his face and cool against his forehead. The sun is hot but he can feel that coolness, can focus on it. He smiles broadly again; he can’t help it. Charles squirms, sighs, wets his lips. He shakes his head.  


 _I can’t shoot anyone, especially not a friend._

 _I can deflect it, Charles. Besides, you’re always telling me to push myself!_

 _If you know you can deflect it, you’re not pushing yourself._

He lowers the gun and tries to hand it over, but Erik won’t take it. His mouth closes a millimeter at a time; that smile had felt _good_ , real, the right reaction to the gun touching his forehead. Charles looks at him, and Erik can feel that touch in his mind, the little thing that is fundamentally Charles – naïve, innocent, too trusting. He can almost feel what Charles must be feeling – hurt that Erik would think he could pull a trigger and empty a bullet into Erik’s head.

But … it has to be him. Erik wonders for a brief moment even as Charles pushes further into his mind (he’s not trying to shut him out; dangerous, his mind screams at him) if this is the time for this. What of Shaw? What of his revenge, avenging the deaths at Shaw’s hands and the death of Erik’s soul – he laughs, the broad, crazy grin reappearing. What soul? It was lost the moment his mother’s body hit the floor.

 _I know you hurt, Erik –_

“What do you know of that? What do you know about me, really? What do you know that you didn’t just reach in and take?”

Erik watches as Charles visibly flinches, the gun in his hand wavering, coming up higher, toward Erik’s nose. “Do it. I can deflect it.” And deep inside, in that place that’s the iron strongbox locked with twine and cheap things that a broken little boy can’t break in to, he starts to cry, even though he wants the gun in his face, wants to prove he’s the better man, the stronger one, that he’s able to do what he wants to because he can. He’s not Shaw’s monster anymore – wait.

That’s all he is.

Erik raises his left hand slightly and the gun and Charles’ hand rise together, and the barrel is in his face once more, his blue eyes – green somedays – shining and wide and the opposite of Charles’ horrified expression, blue and bloodshot and filling with anguish.

 _Erik this is NOT what you want; I do know you, I know everything about you, even if it’s things you didn’t want me to know. I won’t say I’m sorry, my friend, because what would I be without you, and please don’t make me do this._

Charles’ voice is no longer soft in Erik’s head; it’s frantic and crisp and his highbrow accent is sharp and almost painful, like a stake being driven into Erik’s soft brain matter. He cocks the fingers of his left hand a little higher; how did he find this control? and the gun is still in Xavier’s hand. The cool of the metal feels icy against Erik’s hot face, the strong nose and perfect features painful in their sudden tightness.

His eyes close, the cacophony of Charles’ litany deafening.

 _You and me, we’re going to have lots of fun together._

 _BLAMM_

 _The ricochet from the bullet firing knocks Erik sideways, Charles flinging the gun to the ground, disgust and anger warring in his bright eyes – so bright, they fill Erik with something he didn’t know he was missing – and he squats at Erik’s side. His ear is ringing and he can feel a bit of blood dripping from it, even as the sun bakes him where he lies. The cool calm is gone. He searches for it, scrabbles for it in the dirt, but it’s only Charles and Charles’ do-gooder voice that silences his frantic movements._

 _  
_Why?_   
_

The tears are there again and this time Erik stays where he is, lying on his left side, the gravel from the sidewalk tearing through the thin sweats he wears. Blood drips slowly from his deaf ear – it will return after a bit – and he considers just lying there for the rest of his life.

He meets Charles’ eyes and opens his mouth; closing it after a moment. The truth is terrifying, but if Erik keeps it close, if he doesn’t admit it outloud or inside or let it escape from that lockbox Charles won’t know it, and _he_ won’t have to give up the idea that perhaps the silence of the deep waters where he’d been going when Charles plucked him from the ocean is the place he wants to be.

The other man squats next to him, and after a moment, reaches out a steady, strong hand, touching Erik’s face. Erik lets the ringing in his ears fill his brain, and he slowly raises his left hand (long fingers, stronger than Shaw ever imagined) and covers the one on his cheek.


End file.
